I’m holding my breath… 

I’ve not been on for awhile and surely that’s an excellent thing as I’m only supposed to write when I’m furiously angry at life, the world, my partner… and I haven’t been. 

I mean it’s not perfect, this morning he lied about there being bacon in the fridge as he was ‘tired’ and didn’t want to make me a bacon sandwich… wanker… but then he had been up since 6.30am with the 7 month old and let me sleep in… so not a wanker?!? 

It’s things like this that have me very confused, in one breath he does something wonderful, and a lie in till 8.30am is a wonderful thing (I know, if 21 year old me could see me now, she’d kill me), and then lie about bacon, the swine (Not going to aplogise for that lil’joke).

And I’ve thought about it a lot and while it may sound like I’m generalising, I am not. I’m talking specifically about the men in my life, be it partner, brothers, friends and friend’s partners, we ALL have very similar complaints. So therefore, I have come to the conclusion that my man and the men I know are very much like dogs and should be treated and trained as such. 

Oh christ… I do apologise to everyone as looking at it in black and white it looks horrendous and horribly offensive… BUT my realisation led to a strategy and my startegy is working!!! 

I have a dog, see Silver Linings and we have had him in dog training, which I experienced first hand as the partner was off making big bucks on rigs. So my strategy revolves around this:

1. Positive reinforcement

No shouting, no moaning, no anger. 

Treats are awarded for a job well done. Treats include a ‘well done’, a ‘thank you,’ a blow job, sex depending on the level of work, thoughtfullness and care given to the task. 

Keep thanking them, it doesn’t matter that in your four year relationship you have put a wash load on 2,450 times, if he does it once of his own filition, he is praised, you treat that shit like he just saved a fucking child from a burning building. Just do it. 

2. Repetition is key

There is a fine line here, not repeating the task over and over, this may be construed as nagging and they rebel immediately against that. 

I have found repeating the instruction twice and then getting them to repeat it back to me works well. 

But the real secret is getting them to self correct. This line is golden baby. ‘Babe, what should you be doing right now?’ They get all sheepish and tell me and then do it!!! Amazing!!!

3. Be upfront and honest. 

Our command for Silver when he’s licked, whined, barked gone crazy too much is ‘enough’ and I’ve learnt to communicate this with Life partner. Enough playing on your game, enough buying crap, enough picking your nose, enough. 

Enough laziness, it will break us. I’m back to work soon and working and doing the level of housework and child rearing I’m doing, now if continued will break us. My honesty has been rewarded and I can see my partner actively trying. Hell today it’s like I didn’t have a 7 month old, I lay in, I went to the cinema, did lunch, napped!!! It was glorious and it was because adult number 2 did some actual adulting. And I haven’t stopped praising him since.

So really, number 3, it’s about communication, these men don’t get subtle hints, stoney silence and death stares. They only understand when you explicitly tell them, and only then can they do something about it. And if they love you they will, and if they don’t… well then he truly is a dog and needs to be rehomed. 

I’m really sorry for the offensive nature of my blog today, it’s all in good fun and I know men who bring domestic bliss to their relationship as they are a domestic god… my dad for one… but these are my thoughts on my own situation and my own male counter part so whateves man. Go fetch! 

Big and Strong huh?! 

This post touches upon a previous post about back seat drivers, in particular my partner. 

Suprise suprise, we’re back on him. 

Sooooo… He’s finally had his ‘morally in the right’ crash… and the kicker: I and my 6 month old child were there to witness it. 

Oh and the 93 year old woman he hit. 

On a roundabout she pulled out, it happened very slowly, in the sense if it had been a younger driver they’d have nipped out and beat us, partner would have beeped, sworn and moaned about the incident but we would have been safe, home and NOT dealing with the ambulance, police and miles of traffic we created. 

Upon reflection he couldn’t have avioded it, if he’d broken sharply someone would have gone into the back of us, if he’d swerved he would have hit a car and then it would have definitely been our fault. He had to take the hit, he had to plow into the 93 year old’s driver’s seat door, also the side my son was in… he was asleep and stayed asleep and thankfully was none the wiser. 

This is ‘upon reflection’. In my head though straight after, all I could think, and bring to mind was his idea of a ‘moral accident.’ 

And my anger kicked in, but because of the situation I had to control it, had to, and I did. I swore once, very quietly to him… but as I said, very quietly, he may not have heard it. Then I removed myself from the situation and therefore the anger, I had to look after the little man and get picked up by my dad, away from my partner. 

And my anger subsided, my rationality was restored and I was able to accept he had to take the hit, even though his world was in the car because any other alternative would have been a lot worse…. he was shook up he said because of the little bear in the car and for him to even admit that is, for want of better words, fucking crazy.

So, what an I taking from this? 

Walk away. Think. Come back… 

Calm.

Brothers… who’d have them? 

Hooray!!! It is not my partner that has made me angry… well definitely not angry enough to have to write my anger out. Well done him!! 

Unfortunately it’s the other men in my life, my brothers… I have three, all younger, all God’s gift, all cocky, loud and lovely (sometimes.) And really it’s only one that’s made me angry. 

We have a family whatsapp group… which, to be quite frank, is the worst thing you can do as a family – it started off as my pregnancy group so we could get the message out quickly that I was in labour – it evolved. Evolved way beyond anyone’s control. People have left the group, come back to the group, started arguments, been rude, been mean… you get the picture. Generally though, we have gotten used to it and know how to use it sensibly without creating another family feud like the great one of ’99. 

Except Michelle, I’ll call him this to protect his identity… he is in no way called Michael and my chosen name for him is in no way an old pet name from childhood when he paraded around in a matching knicker set of our mother’s with socks instead of boobs. IN NO WAY. 

Today he shared an image that I’m not going to share, but it was clealry a jewish woman who was suffering in a concentration camp with a sash stating she was Miss Auschwitz 1943. Hilarious. Well my brothers’ seem to think so anyway. 

I do not. 

Therefore I am ‘overly sensitive’ and that is what is ‘wrong with the world’. I should see that a picture is just a picture, it’s not going to start World War 3. 

I begged to differ:

I’m sure this image started as a joke too… 

No one has responded to this yet but I have my response ready for whatever they throw at me. I’m tired of letting what my siblings say fly over my head, I’m tired of them thinking they dominate discussion because they are taller, louder and reduce themselves to name calling. I’m also tired of being to aggressive, too loud and babbling when I argue. That is what the blog is for, all of these symptons are a result of my ridiculous anger!

So I will say this… but probably not, it’s a bit too raw for my family, who, while are close in many ways, sharing feelings, thoughts and hardships is not one of those ways. 

Here it is:

Do you know what? I’m sick of this rubbish. Do you know why I’m ‘overly sensitive’ as you put it? Because unlike you, I didn’t grow up as a privileged white male with no issues in her life. I may be a white woman who hasn’t really suffered any sexism, excepted Mr Crocket, who wouldn’t let me play football but what I did grow up with was psoriasis and I’m constantly discriminated and persecuted by ignorant people, lacking in any sensitivity at all.

I grew up being called scabby every day by my own family, I grew up getting odd looks for wearing big black jumpers in the middle of summer, do you know how many friendships I didn’t make because of it, how many complaints I’ve had, how many jobs I’ve lost? Why I had no relationships until I was 28?

Because people treat me differently because of something I cannot control, and only truly good people, overly sensitive people see past it. So when I see people laughing at something a person is, looks like, believes in, then yes I get overly sensitive about it and I will make my opinions known about it because I know what it feels like and how absolutely devastaing it can be. 

So there it is, another reason I’m so angry. Probably. I was gifted with psorasis and I’ve never really recovered from it, especially being free of it for so many years, it going while I was pregnant and yet I see it creeping slowly and surely back to weigh me down yet again. 

FYI I really was called scabby my every single one of my family and it is only with meeting my partner that actually the aesthetics of psorasis doesn’t mean a flying fuck to him. It’s also cazy how someone’s aprroval can do wonders for your own self worth. God damn it… I wish I had my own inherent, string of steel self-worth!

Stupid brothers, making me think about stuff!

Back seat drivers. 

I’ve been driving since I was 18, I passed first time and everything!! 

I’ve had quite a few speeding tickets, a car stolen and one or two slight accidents. Pretty good on average considering I’m 32. 

So why the fuck do people think they can sit in my car and offer unsolicited advice, critque my driving and act like I’m some sort of manic murderer intent on killing everyone and myself via ten tonnes of steel! 

Today I took my partner to work, with my little boy in the back and twice, twice idiot drivers drove… well… idiotically. 

MY first instinct is to avoid a crash. To swerve and miss the idiot drivers and quietly curse them out inside my own car. I feel this is a legitmate instinct and reaction that would be common amongst any normal human being. Please correct me if I’m wrong. 

Avoid the crash. Avoid it at all cost. Right. 

Wrong according to my partner. I’m not supposed to swerve, I’m not supposed to avoid the crash, I can stop dead or carry on but I CANNOT SWERVE!! I have the ‘moral’ high ground, therefore if we crash and die, at least we will have died ‘morally correct’. Well gee thanks. I feel much better. Oh wait I’m dead so who gives a fuck! I can’t feel. 

The second idiot cut up a junction when turning, I did have to move, but I’m okay with that, I don’t need my day filled with dealing with a crash… this is of course assuming I don’t die. My partner pulled on the handbrake, got out of the car and followed the driver down the cul-de-sac, all the while screaming at me for swerving! TO AVOID THE CRASH… I cannot keep specifying that enough. 

Getting back in the car, he smugly states how suddenly the idiotic driver was so excessively apologetic. What’s your fucking point?!?!? 

So you’re perfect scenario, if we don’t crash, is to stop dead, exit my car, which more often than not has my infant son in, and confront the person in the car… who is usually a older, taller male (sorry that I’m perpetrating sterotypes but this is just my experience). To what end?? 

You, my partner, muscular, tall and willinging to punch a man who threatens to harm his child while driving, you can confront him. I, who, can deadlift 60kg on a good day, but has never been in a fight, still carrys some persistent baby weight, 5,5 and hates confrontation, or any contact with strangers will not. And no amount of shaming, lose of temper or general annoyance will make me. 

I was texted later that day with an enquiry about my day and a kiss at the end of the text. Holy shit… that means, without a shadow of a doubt, my partner knows what an absolute douche he has been and this is the closest I will get to an apology, well that and some really good sex later (Check). 

I’ll chalk today up as a win – common sense prevails… when I’m driving. When he’s driving. I fully expect his last words to be: “morally in the right.” And mine will be: “oh shut the fuck up…”